


Tan lines

by dorcas_gustine



Category: Life on Mars (UK)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-14
Updated: 2010-01-14
Packaged: 2017-10-06 06:48:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 345
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/50858
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dorcas_gustine/pseuds/dorcas_gustine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I wrote this as a commentfic for _afterism, who gave me the prompts of <i>Gene/Sam</i> and <i>travel</i>.</p>
    </blockquote>





	Tan lines

**Author's Note:**

> I wrote this as a commentfic for _afterism, who gave me the prompts of _Gene/Sam_ and _travel_.

"France is lovely," Sam suggests.

He snorts. "It's full of French."

"That's kind of a given."

"That kind of sucks."

Beside him, Sam rolls his eyes and falls silence again.

"You mentioned you've been to Mexico," he says, after a while.

Sam blinks at him. "I thought we were sticking to Europe," he says. "Otherwise I'm saying Australia. Or New Zealand."

Gene gives him a look. They both know they don't have the budget for that.

Sam shrugs. "Was just a thought."

"You went to Mexico," he repeated. "We could go to Spain, that's close enough."

"Why? Just because they speak Spanish?" Sam snorts. "Wait, in your mind Mexico is probably a country full of lazy sods. And those who aren't sleeping the day off under a sombrero are busy shooting gringos." He glares at him, but says nothing. "Thanks very much for that, American Westerns," Sam mutters.

"Oi!" he exclaims, pointing a menacing finger at him. Sam should think before offending his favourite genre. It certainly won't serve to reach a conclusion to this conversation any sooner.

Sam sighs. "Sorry," he says, and adds, probably as some sort of peace offering, "you know I like Sergio Leone's films."

Gene sniffs and nods absent-mindedly.

"We still haven't reached an agreement," Sam says after another ten minutes of silence.

He snorts and rolls his eyes. "I'd like to know where it's writ that we have to leave on holidays," he says. "It's not like I couldn't shag you senseless for a week in the Queen's Country."

Sam chuckles. "You probably could, in fact."

"You see my point, then," Gene nods.

"But I was thinking about sun, and beaches and getting a tan," Sam says. "A real vacation."

Gene is about to tell him that he's a petulant child, when the image of a bronze-skinned Sam shaking his arse, the only thing that's not tanned and has remained pale, assaults his mind. "Um," he says, and shifts on the seat, his trousers suddenly uncomfortable. He thinks of every sunny country he knows. "Italy?" he says at last.


End file.
